100 Days of Romanogers Challenge
by TitaniaSarys
Summary: 100 short drabbles about Romanogers including smut, sex, fluff and basically exploring their relationship through a hundred random words.
1. Sock

Natasha hated this. She had been stuck in the hospital for the last week with no authorization to do whatsoever. She wondered sometimes if she was allowed to even breathe. But Fury and Clint had been adamant (and Steve too, although he wasn't that harsh on the words as the other two): she wasn't allowed to even get her foot out of bed until the doctors gave the green light.

The last time she had tried to run away, Clint had attached her to the bed with handcuffs. But she had managed to break free with a hairpin and was long gone before Clint came back from his five minutes coffee break. Once Fury had settled two German Shepherds in front of her door, sick of all the times she had ditched bed rest. Since she couldn't walk out through the front door, she had gone for the window. The fact that medical was on the seventh floor didn't change a thing, Natasha still climbed down the side of the building with bandages sticking out of her hospital gown that miraculously the nurses had managed to put on her when she was out. She had made it two floors down, sliding on old metal tubes and clutching the railing. She had stopped on the fifth floor to take a break and the window she had stopped at just happened to give into the room where Fury held a meeting with several SHIELD operatives. She could still remember the look they exchanged as they both couldn't believe what they were seeing.

But this time she had agreed to stay in bed because Steve wanted her to rest. As much as she hated sitting down doing nothing and being out of the field, she listened to him (and also because he intended to force her to attend Stark's Christmas party if she disobeyed, so for once she stayed put).

And now was finally the time to get out. She couldn't wait for Steve to pick her up. The nurses brought her some clothes Clint had prepared for her (he and Steve were the only ones to have a key to her apartment) since Steve had been busy the whole morning, trying to avoid Stark and his phone calls about the Christmas party. So while she waited for him, she dressed up. She had her underwear on when she realized that she wouldn't be able to wear the shoes because of the cast she had on her left foot and calf. She just put the left one back in the bag. And Clint had forgotten her socks.

Steve entered once she was fully clothed and ready for the winter weather outside. She still pestered. He smiled warmly. "What's going on?"

"Clint's stupidity made him forget my socks."

She said that with a shrug of her slender shoulders, signaling that it was no big deal, that the Black Widow wasn't going to get angry for just that and that Steve better let it go. It also implied she was going to make Clint regret his forgetfulness later. Steve kept smiling but didn't say anything. He watched her hop of the bed and limp towards him, refusing to use the crutches. She snaked her arm around his instead and he accepted her weight without complaining.

They walked out of the hospital wing at SHIELD and made their way to the street through the parking lot. Stark tower was at the other side of the city but Natasha insisted they walked so Steve took the bag with her only shoe and walked, ready to catch her if she fell. But before they reached the snowy pavement though, he pointed at her injured foot.

"There's no way I'm letting you walk on that. Hop on my back, since you don't want to call for a taxi."

She shook her head.

"I'm injured Steve, not dying. I can walk a few miles. Cast or not."

Knowing that he wouldn't be able to win this one, he sighed and let go of her arm. Then he knelt on the ground and started taking off his shoe. Natasha questioningly raised her eyebrows but didn't say a thing. Steve undid his shoelaces, took off his shoe then his sock. It was blue with little white stars at the top and a red band. "Really?" she asked and he shrugged, used to all the Captain America jokes. He then carefully and ever so gently took her foot in his hand and proceeded to put his sock on her cast. His sock was too big for her, but the cast was bigger and so it ripped some of the treads on the side but he still put it on, all the way up half her calf.

"You ruined your sock, you know?" she asked, a small smile on her lips.

He shrugged again and put his shoe back on.

"I'd rather ruin my sock than your cast."

He grabbed her arm again and they resumed walking, Natasha now having half of her cast covered with a blue sock with white stars and a red band. "I look so fucking patriotic now," she let out in a low playful tone so he could be the only one to hear her.

He smiled before adding: "I'm still going to carry you when you'll tire."


	2. Irritate

Natasha slammed the door behind her but Steve followed her anyway. She was so furious she could punch Stark in the face without as much blinking and certainly not thinking about the consequences. They were in her quarters at the Avengers' facility, after the whole Sokovia thing with the city falling from the sky and Ultron with his army of robots. Banner was gone, Clint was gone. The only ones who stayed were the New Avengers. And she was team leader with Cap.

When she felt his presence in the room, she grabbed the first thing lying around which happened to be a cushion. Not the most threatening weapon, but thrown with enough strength and speed, it could still do some damage. But Rogers caught it with one hand as easily as if she had thrown him his shield.

"Why do you do that Rogers?" She asked through gritted teeth, her back turned to him. She was clenching her fists to the point when her knuckles turned white.

He crossed the distance between them but didn't touch her. He just stood there all straight like the soldier he was. The fact that he didn't say anything irritated her even more. He didn't react, he didn't get angry, and he simply accepted her mood swings and whatever she did to him. And when she turned to look at him, he was looking at her with those puppy eyes that literally drove her over the edge. But this time, they were what made her snap.

She slammed her closed fist on his chest and he didn't even budge. "Why are you doing this Rogers?" she repeated. "Why do you accept everything I do even when it's wrong? Why do you accept me?"

But she already knew the answer. She saw it in his eyes and took a step back, fear taking over frustration. "I don't do love, Rogers. I… I can't."

He took a step forward, making her move back even more. He saw her distress yet he kept advancing until her back hit the wall. She was cornered; she had no way out. He hadn't even touched her. She had trapped herself. She leaned against the wall, to be as far away from him as possible. Yet, despite seeing her frightened and emotionally bare in front of him, he kept coming closer. He only spoke when he was a heartbeat away and their eyes locked.

"I accept you for who you are, Nat. Not for what they did to you. Not for what they forced you to become. Not for what everyone thinks you might be. But for who you really are." No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't escape his gaze. She shivered and her voice trembled when she spoke, so unlike the Black Widow:

"Love is for children, Steve, and my childhood was stolen from me. I'm an assassin, a spy. I kill people on a daily basis because no one else can do what I do. I can't allow myself attachments. And even if I could… I don't know how!" Her voice had been a whisper during her speech until the last sentence that she yelled in his face, her bright blue eyes shining fiercely. "You going down a path I can't follow. I stayed too long in the shadows and now I'm afraid of the light. I can't come with you, I can't be with you because I don't deserve you! I've hurt you in more ways that I can count and I don't…"

She was speaking faster by the second and so Steve did the only thing he could think of to make her suffering stop: he captured her lips with his. She refused at first, trying to break the kiss but he grabbed her shoulders and held her close. After a few seconds of vain resistance, she let herself go into the kiss, deepening it and closing her eyes. They only separated when they were out of breath and yet he didn't let her go. His arms securely wrapped around her small still shivering frame, he pushed his forehead against hers and whispered:

"It's alright, Nat. I'll show you. I'll be there every step of the way. I'll never let go. No matter how scared, lost or insecure you'll feel I will always build you back up. Always." She let him whisper that last word again and again until it was ringing in her head like a broken record.

And when she allowed her own arms to hug him back, she believed him.


	3. Lopsided

When Steve came back to the Tower one night he couldn't believe his eyes. He realized something had happened the moment Jarvis warned him. Unfortunately, the AI didn't have the words to describe what happened except the fact that Mister Stark would have said that he was "hammered."

And things were messy indeed when Steve reached the top floor. Thor was passed out on the kitchen table. Mjolnir rested in the floor and cracks had formed around it as if it had been thrown by the god of thunder himself. His cape was missing and the magnets that were usually on the fridge had been attached to his armor. His blond hair had been completely braided and colorful hairpins had been added. And someone had shaved the left side of his face so clumsily it looked like a lopsided smile.

Tony was sprawled on one the leather couches which was actually overturned. Which meant he was upside down as if he had fallen along with the couch. His head rested in a bowl of guacamole. Little arrows were drawn on his face with a black inerasable marker. Red kiss marks could be seen on his neck and the collar of his white yellow shirt. Steve recognized Natasha's lipstick. Tony had a bottle in his right hand that was tipped just enough to allow the rest of the whisky to fall on his pants, right at his crotch. From the size of the dark stain, Steve guessed it had been at least a good ten minutes since Tony was like that, either asleep or passed out. His left hand was clasped around a shaver. _Someone's going to be in trouble in the morning_ , Steve thought.

The last person present in the room that was unconscious was Bruce. He sat in an armchair, actually he seemed to be about to fall out of it. Steve couldn't see him well because Clint and Natasha were standing in front of him, whispering and giggling like teenagers.

"A little more to the left," Clint said. He was standing on Natasha's right. The redhead seemed to arrange something on Bruce's head because Clint quickly added: "No, that's too far, a little more to the right. Be careful, it's gonna fall!"

When Steve was finally behind the two SHIELD agents, he saw them turn to face him and he had a good view of Banner. The scientist was sound asleep in the chair, his bare arms dangling on the armrests. The only thing covering him were Thor's cape draped around his hips and a lacy black bra laid on his head. It covered his left eye like an eye-patch and Steve realized it was Natasha's bra, the very one she was wearing during the day. A heart had been shaved on Banner's chest hair and his right hand was covered in guacamole.

"Steve, you're back!" Natasha yelled before wrapping her arms around his broad frame. She was tipsy and hugged him awkwardly. Steve caught her, fearing she might fall. In the corner of his eye, he saw Clint hide a spoon full of green stuff. Somehow Steve was certain all of this was the doing of the two agents still standing.

He looked at Clint while still holding a smiling Natasha. "Just how much did you have to drink?"

Clint shrugged and threw the spoon across the room without even looking. It landed behind the couch, next to Tony's head, splattering more guacamole on his face. "Thor had a head start with Asgardian mead. Tony, pretty much the usual. Banner didn't drink much and Hulked out at some point, destroying the three floors just below us, so I advise you not to go there for now. Nat and I… well Nat was three vodka bottles ahead last time I checked."

And she was _just_ tipsy… Steve sighed, not really wanting to be there when everyone woke up. "Ok, come on Nat, enough mischief for one night. Let's get you to bed."

For once, Natasha didn't protest but she turned to look at Banner one last time before heading towards the elevator, Steve's strong arm wrapped around her hips. "Jarvis, did you take pictures?"

"Of course Miss Romanoff. I even recorded everything."

"Good, now erase the recording but keep the pictures. Upload them on Tony's phone so he'll have a nice surprise tomorrow morning." She laughed after that and all three of them entered the elevator. Clint's floor was just below Natasha's, so Steve and Nat left before him. Steve managed to get Natasha to lay on her back in her king size bed. But she kept dragging him in for a kiss. He responded to her kiss but pushed her down gently.

"Nat, we're going to bed." He wasn't going to sleep on his floor, not with Natasha like this. Besides, they had developed the nasty habit of sleeping in each other's beds during the last weeks, so Steve didn't see the point in leaving. "You know that your bra was lopsided on Banner's head? Clint really was intoxicated if he didn't see that."

Natasha smiled and in one swift movement, pulled her shirt above her head, revealing her bare chest to Steve who blushed. "Is this lopsided too?" She said as she touched the underside of one of her breasts, leaning on her elbow.

Steve swallowed with difficulty. "You know it never is."

She smiled even more broadly. She just loved the effect she had on Steve.


	4. Pinch

Tied up to a chair, Natasha slowly opened her eyes. Her head hurt badly and she could smell the familiar copper stench that sometimes haunted her nightmares while being a completely integrated part of her. Crimson blood was dripping from her forehead, somewhere on the left, probably next to her hairline. She could feel the stream on the side of her face, caressing her cheek before following the edge of her chin and coloring her neck. She felt it progress lower and pool in her valley. She looked up and winced, immediately regretting the movement as the world started spinning.

She was in a dimly lit small room. No one else was there. The only door was right in front of her. There were no windows and the light came from a light bulb right above her head. She was tied to the chair with ropes. They were too tight for her to wriggle out of or break. Her arms were attached at the sides of the chair, in an angle that hurt her back. She had probably been sitting like that for hours. She didn't really remember how much time had passed. Also the events that led her to this predicament were too foggy, probably due to the blow she had received on the head.

"Hello concussion," she whispered. Humor and sarcasm were her last defenses in this kind of situations. Also her voice didn't sound like her own, as if she hadn't spoken in a while. She tried to move her legs but they were also tied to the legs of the chair with thick ropes.

She looked around the room, trying to avoid thinking about the throbbing in her head. There wasn't much to look at. There was no other piece of furniture than the chair she was tied to. The only other objects present were a black bag in a corner, along with a metal bar that had red smudges on the side. Now she knew what had hit her. Her eyes suddenly fell on the floor in front of her: it was covered in dust. She could see footprints but no dragging marks that could indicate to her that she had been brought here unconscious. The rest of the marks on the ground were messy, suggesting that whoever had been with her in the room had left in a hurry.

She looked at herself as much as she could, trying to access her injuries and general state now that she was awake. She had a dislocated shoulder, a busted knee and had probably twisted her right wrist. After years of broken bones and contusions, she could almost exactly tell what was wrong with her body.

Besides, it was a game between her and Clint. Who broke the most bones or lost the most blood. They gave each other points for each injury depending on the critical state of it. Concussions always got high points for instance. They weren't masochists though, far from that. If they could avoid an injury, they would without blinking because injuries in their line of work meant not being at a 100% which could lead to death. No, counting as they did only made it more bearable; it allowed them to have a bit of fun with those situations. They had promised each other that if someday one of them took a hit just to score points, they would end that game. So far, Natasha was winning and Steve hated that game.

She suddenly hurt loud rumbling and a bit of dust fell from the ceiling. She had no idea if she was underground although she guessed she probably was. Despite the fogginess in her mind, she was lucid enough to realize a battle was going on outside. That could only be good for her, either those who captured her were fighting among each other or someone was coming to her rescue. She was used to not rely on the others for escape but since she was a member of the Avengers, things were different. Despite everything the world believed or the way she acted in public, she cared.

The door was suddenly pushed open and it landed at her feet, pushed out of its hinges. Captain America appeared to her in all his glory. When he saw her, Steve ran to her and took her face in his hands. "Oh my god! Nat! Are you alright?" His tone was worried and she smiled despite the killer headache and her eyelids that were starting to drop.

"Took you long enough," she whispered. The weakness in his voice make him panic slightly and he kissed her lips softly, eliciting a moan from her. But he broke the kiss as soon as it started and undid her bonds.

"I'm taking you out of here. A quinjet is waiting outside; we just have to get out of the building without getting in the line of fire. The others are taking care of the bad guys." Once her arms were free, Steve worked on her legs. But she didn't stir, unconsciousness slowly claiming her again. She then felt a pinch on her arm.

"Aouch," she whispered and frowned, opening her eyes in the slightest. She looked at Steve. The panic had disappeared from his eyes and had been replaced by a strong determination. She could tell from the way he clenched his jaw.

"Stay with me Nat," he said as he grabbed her shoulders gently, pushing her in his embrace once he undid the ropes around her ankles. "Can you walk?" She shook her head. He placed her head against his heart and scooped her up, his hands on her back and under her bent knees. He left the room without even looking behind.

"Can you tell me your injuries?" he asked as he was running through the corridors of the building, occasionally meeting a fellow Avenger beating up guys in dark uniforms. She had closed her eyes again but she answered.

"Concussion for sure," she winced as a jolt from his running sent spasms of pain in her shoulder. "Dislocated shoulder, busted knee, twisted wrist and I think I might even have a couple of bruised ribs." But she couldn't tell for sure because most of her body ached. She hadn't felt the ribs until Steve moved her.

They arrived in the quinjet and left once every Avenger was on board. They stood up next to Steve who had placed Natasha on the gurney in the center of the jet. The others remained silent once they let Nat know they were glad she was ok. She learned that Clint was still in retirement and the short time of their op (she had been captured during an Avenger mission seven hours ago) hadn't allowed them to contact him. Otherwise he would be hovering above her like Cap was.

"Tell Clint," Natasha slurred, feeling the unconsciousness threaten her again. "Tell him he'll end up in the dust. Tell him to add 253 points to my score." And then she passed out.


	5. Insidious

Steve was bored at Tony's New Year's Eve party at the tower. Or rather, he was content. A beer in hand, he leaned against the glass door of the balcony, watching everyone having fun. Every Avenger was back, Thor and Banner were also back on the team. The events that almost destroyed them seemed to have happened a decade ago. They had gone a long way since the Avengers initiative, since all the catastrophes and wars. Things had been rough, they fought a lot, they cried and tore each other apart. They had been through so much together, they looked more like a family now than a team.

Steve looked at the banner that Sam insisted they'd attach rather than have Tony invent some kind of device to display "Happy New Year 2020!" It was almost a decade now since Steve came out of the ice. The time had caught up with him a little bit. He was slightly older. But so were all his friends and for once, he felt he belonged. He almost lost everyone during the Civil War four years ago and all the conflicts that followed. Everyone had grown and changed.

He watched them have fun; all of them were finally having fun. Steve knew that he was probably fooling himself, but that night, with the brand new promises of the New Year approaching, he wanted to believe that, for once, the world was at peace. That he had done his job right.

He saw the others dancing and assured Tony he was fine by his own. He had always been a little on the side, like a shepherd, always looking after the others without meddling in. It was fine by him. But his gaze suddenly caught the sight of a famous redhead he had known for years. She wore a short black sleeveless dress that stopped at mid-thigh and had a cut on each side. Silver dots shone on the fabric, making it look like the night sky. It was also low cut on her cleavage and showed a little bit of her lacy black bra. She wore grey thighs with spider web prints and flashy red shoes that matched her lipstick. Her makeup was dark and light at the same time and made her green eyes shine more. She had cut her hair again and her wavy red curls reached her shoulders just like the first time he had seen her.

She was looking straight at him from the bar counter when she had just downed a shot, probably of vodka, knowing her. Steve raised his beer bottle to her and she poured herself another shot before raising it to him. No one saw their silent exchange. The music then changed to something dynamic and adapted for modern dancing that Steve still hadn't caught up to and truthfully he didn't much care. Natasha smiled for the first time that evening and drank her shot bottoms up before leaving the bar. That was it, Steve thought. So far, Natasha had made herself discreet, leaving the dance floor and spotlight to others. But Steve knew that she was just biding her time and would come out of the shadows in a firework.

Steve had never told her how he felt. Things with Sharon didn't work out just like they hadn't with Peggy back in the days. They had been busy, true, but he hesitated. He just couldn't see why someone as vibrant as her would stick with someone as dull and old-fashioned as him. But from what he had heard from the other Avengers, Natasha was the only one who hasn't received her Happy Ending yet.

She made her way on the dance floor and Hill yelled something Steve blushed at while lowering his gaze on the floor for a few seconds. Tony wolf whistled and other comments were made when Natasha got to the middle of the dance floor and showed them her dance moves. It was very modern and sensual. Clint also joined her and she danced with him for a while, showing their platonic love because that's what there was between them. He was her best friend, her almost brother. Their relationship was the same Steve shared with Bucky.

From time to time, Natasha looked at Steve and her smile never left her lips. He knew she was teasing him and soon the others saw that too. They called him to join her, she even invited him with her hand, shaking her index back and forth, but he didn't budge. He was content where he was.

The song ended with Tony shouting the countdown, quickly followed by everyone. The general attention turned to the billionaire that had hopped on the bar counter but Steve suddenly found Natasha beside him. "Everyone deserves to have fun, Steve," she whispered and he got a whiff of her perfume which turned him on so much he dropped his beer. No one heard it clatter on the floor though, still focused on the loud booming of Tony's countdown, repeated by Thor.

Natasha grabbed his shirt with one hand and opened the glass door to the balcony with the other. She pushed Steve inside while offering him a nice view of her cleavage to which he blushed so much he might have a fever. Once his back hit the railing, her hips met his and she slowly dragged one of her legs up, rubbing it against his pants. His hand instinctively shot to her thigh and his fingers caught the slit in her dress. He blushed even more when he realized she wasn't wearing thighs but really high socks and so he was brushing her bare skin.

They could slightly hear Thor's voice through the glass, just enough to keep up with the countdown. Just as cheers erupted from inside the tower when midnight rang, Steve opened his mouth to whish Natasha a Happy New Year. But her mouth crashed on his and her hands grabbed his shirt, pulling him towards her. He deepened the kiss and allowed his hands to fall on the small of her back, holding her close. She tasted of alcohol but also something intoxicatingly sweet like cherry. He felt her smile under his lips and it made him want her more. Fireworks erupted in the sky above them but they didn't notice, having their own fireworks in their minds.

They only separated when they heard a loud bang on the glass door and Tony's wolf whistling. All their friends were pressed against the glass, showing them the thumbs up and some rude sexual gestures that made Natasha's eyes shine with lust and Steve blush even harder. She laughed at his embarrassment and kissed him again, her hands in his hair this time and her leg still tangled around his. When they came inside, Steve didn't whip the red smudge on his lips. Nor did her let go of her hand when they partied with the rest of their friends.

And God Natasha was insidious!


	6. Baseball

Steve wasn't a huge fan of television. He mostly watched it to catch up on all the things he had missed. But there was one thing he watched almost religiously. It was baseball. Since he came out of the ice, it had been one of the few things to remind him of before and he had grown quite fond of this sport.

Also the fact that Clint always watched it since he was retired meant that Steve and Natasha had another reason to visit the Bartons. And like every time there was an important tournament, they dined at the farm and watched the match. Steve and Natasha only left in the morning after spending the night in the guest room Clint had added in the last couple of years.

Natasha was helping Laura in the kitchen. Not because she liked cooking or was any good at it, on the contrary. But she enjoyed the other woman's company. Laura had never been jealous of her husband's friendship with the redhead because she knew it was genuine and purely platonic now. She had never been afraid of Natasha and had rather made a friend out of her than an enemy. They had helped each other out throughout the years, Natasha making sure Clint would always come back home in one piece and Laura sometimes helping Natasha when Clint wasn't there. Just like the few times when the redhead had crashed at the farm, wounded and exhausted, potentially dying. Laura had always patched her up without asking too much questions. That's also something Natasha appreciated: the fact that she could confide in Laura without fearing her secrets might be spilled out.

Still, Laura knew Natasha only grazed the surface every time they spoke, never daring to let anyone in too much. But she was also surprised to see Natasha so at ease with Steve. She smiled more and laughed even, something only Clint and their daughter Lila had managed to do. She seemed happy with Steve; there was no other way of saying it. And it had only been three months since they both acknowledged that they had a thing going on and finally decided to give it a go.

While Steve and Clint sat in the couch and watched the match, Laura was hovering in the kitchen while Natasha casually leaned against the counter, a beer in hand. From her vintage point she had a good view of the couch and the kitchen but also the kids playing in the living room. Nathaniel was almost a year now and Natasha found him cute although she never said it.

"So Clint told me things have been going smoothly between you and Steve lately?" Laura said as she washed the dishes.

Natasha smiled. "Pretty much. He did make one mistake though."

Laura raised one eyebrow in both confusion and curiosity so the redhead elaborated. "We were out on a date and he brought me flowers." Natasha stopped Laura before she could say anything. "I know it's cute and romantic and all and, truthfully, a few years ago I might have punched him for pulling something like this out. But it was nice, I appreciated the gesture."

"But?" Laura knew that when Natasha had that tone, there was always a _but_. Natasha quickly looked in the direction of the couch and saw the men still watching intently as if hypnotized and cheering from time to time. She took another gulp of beer before turning to Laura and almost whispering.

"He brought me roses."

Laura bit her lips and started preparing the dessert but refused to let Natasha help her when the redhead asked (she might not like cooking, that didn't mean she couldn't lend a hand). "You haven't told him have you?"

Natasha shook her head. "I'm waiting for the right moment. So far, you and Clint are two of the five people who know."

"Who are the others?" Laura didn't really know if Natasha would answer. It often happened that Laura asked something about Natasha's past and the redhead simply didn't say anything as if she hadn't heard. She had gotten used to it through the years, not taking it personally. But this time, Natasha did answer.

"A friend of mine that rarely speaks and whom I trust. And two women from that country."

"Are they…"

Natasha nodded. "Yes, one is the woman that helped me back in the days and the other is her daughter. Although I haven't been there in a while, I don't even know if they are still alive."

Natasha then looked at Steve. That story she was mentioning was one of her darkest secrets, something even Fury had no idea of. She hoped it stayed that way but that secret could explain a lot about her personality and why she acted in a certain way in different situations. She had only told this story to a handful of people, even the other Avengers had no idea and it was better like that. But she wanted to tell Steve. She was just waiting for the right moment.

"I'll tell him someday. When the time is right. He deserves to know if we are to have a future together."

Laura was a little surprised about her friend's honesty and bluntness. True, Natasha had always been honest even if it meant being cruel or rude. Laura just didn't expect the redhead to be so open about her relationship and what might be since Natasha always lived in the moment. Once the dessert was ready, the kids wolfed it down before heading to bed. When the match was over, Clint helped Laura settled the kids, leaving Natasha and Steve alone for a while. As always, they would spend the rest of the evening talking between adults and catching up until midnight when old Clint would need his sleep (Natasha teased him about the fact that he was getting old and had stopped doing that with Steve since he had learned that she had been born in the late twenties).

Once they were alone, Natasha sat on Steve's lap and he pulled her in his embrace, his strong buff arms wrapping themselves naturally around her waist. She rested her head next to his and simply whispered "Thank you for the roses, they were beautiful. But roses make me sad." He looked at her questioningly but didn't say a word. "I'll tell you someday. I promise." He kissed her and smiled contently. Someday was fine by him.


	7. Receive

**Sorry about the late update, yesterday was busy as hell.**

* * *

There were things she had never told him, especially about why she acted a certain way. She didn't tell him why she always wanted to be in control, why she always needed to be in control. She didn't tell him that it actually scared her to let loose, either in a sexual submissive way in the bedroom or in a more bloody vengeful way on the battlefield. She didn't tell him what ghosts haunted her nights and where they came from. She didn't tell him why she hated medical or couldn't stand staying in bed with nothing to do. She didn't tell him why she always worked out even when it seemed too much or unnecessary. She didn't tell him why she sometimes needed to get out of her own thoughts and what she did in those cases. She didn't tell him why she had trouble reveling things about herself, deep things that no one knew about.

She didn't say any of those things, but somehow he had always known. It wasn't exactly because of the way her body moved when she did certain things. Her body language was her favorite way of speaking, true, but it didn't explain the things she hid from him or rather the things she didn't say. Because whenever he asked a question, she answered. Sometimes it took her days to find the right words and they always came out choked and difficult as if they had physically burnt her throat. Sometimes she answered without words, making her point through action and examples of everyday life. Sometimes he understood without her needing to say anything.

She told him so much with her eyes; he had grown accustomed to read them as easily as a book. He could now see the slight differences between all her emotions but also between more complex revelations. He could see when she was scared and when she lied. He could see when she needed him but didn't dare say it out loud and just begged him with her emerald green eyes. He could see when she was truly mad and when she was just pretending for the sake of pretending. He could see when he had crossed a line she wished he hadn't crossed and when she was sorry she did the same but her words were not enough to express the depth of her apology. He could see the way she looked at him when she was impressed and when she felt the closest feeling to love.

Because he also knew that she had been taught many things, most of them he wished she hadn't, especially at such a young age. He knew she had a very specific relationship with pain, which she had learned to control, never letting it take over. He knew she did a lot of this out of habit because for a long time it had all been for survival. He knew she didn't believe in love or couldn't bring herself to allow such beliefs. He knew she thought she didn't deserve happiness and that it would be selfish to want to deserve it. He knew she thought she didn't deserve a lot of things and that she had accepted the fact that she wouldn't get them, that it was forbidden to her to want them. He knew she didn't need protection and that she couldn't show weaknesses because it would be her downfall. He also knew that she herself knew all those things and was aware of them, but couldn't do a thing about them.

That's why he didn't need to hear her say them. The only things he sometimes needed to hear were details, like the year in which she had left the KGB, or the age at which she had been taken by the Red Room. Dates, names and numbers were the things he couldn't guess and wouldn't find in her files because no one knew her true and complete story. It was for her own protection, she said. But those details were important for him to understand what he couldn't see or sense. It was rather their impact that he wanted to know, how they had shaped her. She was six when the Red Room took her in for instance. She had never lived a normal childhood and she had known death and despair way too young.

She knew the impact it would have on him, that's why she selected what she told him. There were secrets she couldn't tell him yet, others that she would never be able to tell even to him. But she trusted him and she had realized he cared, genuinely cared. He wouldn't hurt her and could be a tomb when it came to secrets because he deeply respected her. She even got the feeling he sometimes worshipped her.

That's why she had decided to let go for once. As she lay naked in their bed, she didn't greet him with a smile like usually. She let him come closer, his eyes searching hers for any indication about what was going on without having to voice his thoughts, knowing that asking her directly was likely to make her lie. She was the first one to spoke.

"I always take what I want from people, from men. But I never give in exchange." She stopped, biting her lips and shifting uncomfortably. She seemed to be looking for the right words and not even once did he let his gaze linger anywhere else than on her face, despite the temptation. "You've never received anything from me. I want to give myself to you. I want you to take me."

"Nat…" he started to protest. He did want her but not like that. "You don't have to…"

"Let me give you something for once, Steve. I want to try… not to have control."

Her gaze told him how much she trusted him by doing so and his eyes almost brimmed with tears. He kissed her with so much passion that she realized it was sometimes good not to be in control.


	8. Actually

Natasha Romanoff was a lot of things. But she was not invincible and yes, just like everybody else she had her fears. Some of them, she managed to hide easily, others not so much. But it was rare not to see her under control.

Steve had seen her lose control and in situations where she slipped just for a second, revealing that she was still human, no matter how tough she acted in front of the world. And one of those times was in the bathroom. They had just come back from a mission for SHIELD, something about a fishy warehouse supposedly belonging to HYDRA. The intel had been legit and they had fought HYDRA agents. No one scored any important injury or anything and Steve and Natasha were back at his apartment since it was closest and Steve had offered her to stay the night.

She let out a frustrated sigh that caught Steve's attention and he knocked on the bathroom door. "Nat? Can I come in?" When she didn't answer, he decided to come in anyway, worried. Worst case scenario, she would kick his ass for peeping but he couldn't risk having her injured and not treating her wounds. He knew just how stubborn she could be when it came to not showing any weakness.

What he saw made him stop halfway in the doorframe. Natasha was standing in the middle of the bathroom next to the mirror and had peeled the upper half of her catsuit off, showing her black top and lacy bra underneath. She wasn't harmed except for the occasional cuts and bruises that often accompanied a fight mission. What surprised Steve was how frustrated she looked when she tried to get rid of the cobwebs that stuck to her suit. The warehouse might have been HYDRA, it had been far from clean and Natasha, being the spy and master of infiltration she was had been in some rather dusty and dirty places to outflank and surprise their enemy.

Steve couldn't help but laugh at her distress. She shot him a dark look that would have made him step back hadn't she looked so ridiculous at the moment. "Don't you fucking dare laugh, Rogers." Steve was about to tell her not to curse when his smile dropped and he pointed at something on her hip. "What?" she asked, her voice laced with frustration.

"Don't move. There's a spider on your…"

The moment the words escaped his lips she had turned and found the bug slowly climbing up her hip with its eight long thin black legs. Steve thought she would scream but the Black Widow never screamed in fright. Instead, she grabbed the first item nearby, which happened to be a towel, and hit the spider with it. It scrambled on the ground and started running but Natasha stepped on it, squashing it on the white tiles.

Steve sighed as she tried to brush the remaining webs away with the towel. "Here, let me." She reluctantly allowed him to help her out, especially on her back. She was still during the entire time like a statue. It's only when he was finished that she allowed herself to breath.

"Who would have thought that the Black Widow is afraid of spiders?" Steve said playfully, a smile on his lips.

"I'm not afraid of them. Just because my code name refers to this bug doesn't mean I have to like it."

So Steve learned that day that the Black Widow wasn't actually fond of spiders.


	9. Love

"Love is for children." That's all she's ever believed. That's what they had taught her, that's what they wanted her to believe. She thought she knew what love was. She thought she knew what it meant. But her two marriages had barely scratched the surface. The first one had been too hasty and she was too young, it hadn't even been official. The second had been arranged and she had followed the Red Room's instructions like a fool. Since that time, she had never allowed a silk ribbon or a golden band to fall on her finger.

She had never told Steve she loved him, not even once. Not the first time they had slept together. Not on their first date. Not even when he said it to her for the first time. But he didn't blame her, he didn't ask her to say it and he wasn't expecting her words. He could see her true feelings on her face every time he said it, as if her features were a mirror of his words. The way her emerald green eyes shone almost to the brim of tears. The way her mouth slightly opened as if she wanted to say it too. The way she trembled under his touch.

The closest she had come to saying it was one time, when they were lying in bed. She had her head on his chest, one of his arms resting on her bare back, stroking her hair. "Thank you, любовь," she had whispered. She had spoken so softly he didn't quite catch it that time but didn't ask her to repeat.

The next time she said that word was at the Avengers facility, after a particularly difficult mission when they were both regaining their own quarters. Maybe it was because they both led the team or just by pure chance, but their doors were facing each other and their quarters were both at the south end of the corridor in the residential area. Once the other team members were gone, Natasha had grabbed Steve by the collar before he could even place his hand on his doorknob. "Care to wash my hair, любовь?" she had asked playfully and this time he heard her loud and clear. After the shower, he wondered what the word meant but Natasha held him busy during the rest of the evening and then he forgot to check it out.

The third time she said it was during a mission. They had both been in a building that exploded and caved in, trapping them under the rubble. Steve had managed to clear enough space for them to sit and stand comfortably but they had no way of climbing out of that hole, not without risking the rubble collapsing even more since they didn't know which debris held what. The team had separated in groups, Steve and Natasha taking the east side of the area where HYDRA had been spotted. The others would come looking for them but it might take them a while to first finish their own fights, then gather at the extraction point and finally come looking for them. Comms were down, but it wasn't anything unusual since it happened to them all the time in that kind of missions.

Steve had taken most of the damage on his shield, but it wasn't enough to protect them entirely. They had both fell, hitting the ground hard. Steve landed on top of Natasha and used his shield to protect them. Once everything seemed to be settled, he had made a bit of space and had turned to look at her once nothing seemed to be about to collapse on them. He was mostly unharmed thanks to the serum that strengthened his body. Natasha was lying on her stomach so he turned her body to face him. To his relief, she was still breathing and her heartbeat wasn't too weak. But blood was oozing from a spot at the junction between her hair and forehead. He feared she might have other injuries but he was no doctor, he couldn't assess that kind of things without her being conscious and telling him where it hurt.

She came to after a few minutes that were the longest of Steve's life. She frowned and tried to sit up but landed on her elbows instead. He immediately reached to help her and she spat blood on the dusty concrete floor. "Nat…" he started. She reacted to the sound of his voice, grasping the hand that wasn't on her back.

"Steve…" she took a look around. "Where are we?" she croaked, her white teeth colored red but no more blood escaped her crimson lips.

"Still in the building. Or rather below it. What hurts?" he asked, concern laced in his voice.

She tried to sit up despite his protest and swayed once her ass was flat on the floor. "My head is killing me," she grimaced and raised her hand to the tender bleeding spot. "And I guess I broke two ribs…" her slender but trembling fingers trailed down her ribcage. "Scratch that, I broke three."

Steve sat with his back again a solid piece of concrete and invited her to lean against him which she did. But she didn't relax in his arms like he thought she would. Instead, she coughed in her hand and trembled. So he took off his jacket and placed it on her shoulders. But the more minutes past, the more she coughed until she had a fit for five good minutes. "Nat?" he asked but she refused to look at him, simply holding her closed fist against her chest.

"Show me your hand."

She shook her head so he grabbed her wrist and used his strength to open her fist despite her feeble attempts to wriggle away from him. Her palm was covered in blood. "Ok, maybe, just maybe, one of the broken ribs grazed a lunge…" When she saw him pale, she quickly added "But it didn't puncture it! Or I'll be dead by now. Don't worry, любовь. I'm a survivor."

"What does it mean, Nat?" She blushed but didn't answer.

When the others finally rescued them and Natasha was being taken care of by the medics of their extraction, Steve looked the word up and found that it meant Love in Russian. And every other time she said that word to him, he smiled like a kid on Christmas Eve.


	10. Pretend

She realized she couldn't pretend anymore the moment she woke him up with another one of her nightmares. But this time it wasn't about the Red Room or one of her missions. But it was still about blood and death. She had woken him up with her thrashing and screaming. That wasn't so different from her usual nightmares. And, as always, he had held her to prevent her from hurting herself or him. He had whispered soothing words in her ear and applied butterfly kisses to her sweaty temples and that just did the trick. She stopped thrashing and opened her eyes, breathing in violently and suddenly as if she had been underwater for too long. She trembled in his arms for long minutes but when he angled their bodies to lie back down she raised her hands in protest.

"It was in 1945," she said, her voice a little bit shaky. Instead of lying down, Steve sat against the head board and she pressed her back to his chest, resting her head on his shoulder as he stroked her red hair. "All the girls from the Black Widow program had been sent on the battlefield to help the soldiers of the Red Army. I was in Slovakia. It was one hell of a winter although it had nothing to do with the harshness of our Russian storms."

She paused, clearing her head and ordering her thoughts before she resumed her story. Steve didn't interrupt her even once. "I was barely seventeen and his name was Nikolaï. We eloped on the battlefield when every hope seemed dead. We fought for months through the never-ending winter. In the end, I was the only one to survive. My fellow Red Room students that were in Slovakia were gone. The other soldiers that I had come to consider my brothers were gone. Even the child I was caring was gone too."

Natasha let out a strangled cry but it had been barely audible and so soft Steve didn't understand what it was until he heard all the pain in her tone. He pulled her close and told her everything was fine, that it was all in the past now and she cried in his arms. She cried like she hadn't cried in a long time. After most of her tears had dried and only a handful was left on her rosy cheeks, she picked up her story again.

"I was six months along in the pregnancy when I miscarried. It was due to the Kudrin's serum they used in the Red Room to enhance my metabolism. I am unable to carry a pregnancy to term but I shouldn't even be able to get pregnant in the first place." She locked eyes with Steve. "Her name was Rose. I buried her in the woods around the house of the lady that helped me deliver."

Steve simply whispered "I'm so sorry Nat." She nodded but didn't say anything else. There wasn't much to say and she had accepted her infertility as part of herself. What happened in 45 still hurt though but now she wasn't all alone on that cold December night when she burned a rose on her balcony.


	11. Contain

The mission was simple: break in, stop the bad guys, kick some ass and then move out. The building itself was nothing they haven't seen before. Simple lab in the middle of a big city, noting wrong on the outside. The name written above the entrance wasn't even on their to-watch list of potentially dangerous private companies. But SHIELD had gotten wind that they manufactured chemicals based on alien DNA. How they got the DNA in the first place? Beats her. But then again, Chitauri blood, remnants and artifacts had been lying all over New York after the battle in 2012. So it was expected that the authorities didn't cover up everything. Like that Chitauri helmet that SHIELD found in a firehouse thanks to Coulson's team (yes, Natasha couldn't believe her ears when she heard he was alive and she could even less believe her eyes when she saw him in person).

Strike Team Delta was inside the building within a minute. Rumlow swept the lower and underground levels while Steve and Natasha were sent to the top floor. Everything was going according to plan and they separated, each heading into the opposite side of the corridor when they reached the top floor. They could hear the other SHIELD agents fighting below. Gun fire erupted and Natasha cursed: with all the chemicals around them, it was a very bad idea. She made a mental note to discover who was the idiot that fired and give that person a lesson on why sparks and chemicals were not a good survival mix. Preferably with some hits and a lot of pain.

They were supposed to figure out if there really was an alien DNA, grab everything related to it and then head out before the cleaning team came and brought everyone in and sealed the lab. Steve was the one who found the alien DNA and the chemicals made from it. Natasha acknowledged his words on the comms then proceeded to check one last room before going to help Steve out.

She found two scientists in there, quickly shuffling vials in suitcases. The first one came to her with a gun that she managed to knock out of his hand before he could shoot. A slight electro shock from her Widow Bites and the scientist crumpled to the floor. The second one tried to hit her with one of the suitcases and she ducked but some of the vials fell out because it wasn't closed. While she knocked him out too, the vials broke on the floor and gas started to leak in the room like the promise of Death.

Natasha immediately hit the red button on the side of the door, sealing the room shut while an alarm rang in the entire building and lights started flashing red. Soon after Natasha started coughing. She looked around the room for any extra mask or suit but found nothing and even the scientists hadn't any on them (which she found stupid by the way but they had probably been in a rush). Her vision became blurred and she had to hold onto a table to stay on her feet since the world decided to suddenly sway.

She vaguely heard someone bang on the transparent door but the sound was muffled. She turned her head towards the sound and saw Steve, yelling at her to open the damn door. She shook her head and coughed more before slowly dragging her feet and walking towards him while leaning on the furniture. "I can't open it Steve" more coughing but this time there was blood on her hand "It has to be contained."

Steve kept on banging even when she fell to the floor. She laid there, her eyes slowly closing and didn't even notice Steve leaving. She didn't notice the door being suddenly pushed open and the gas contained. She didn't feel Steve's arms around her. She didn't hear his voice. She didn't feel him lift her up and begin running. She didn't feel the jet leaving and she didn't feel it land again. She didn't feel hands pressed on her body, especially around her neck probably checking her pulse. She didn't feel her eyelids being lifted nor did she see the light shone in them.

She only woke up a few hours later, a breathing mask on her face that scared the shit out of her. Gentle hands immediately grabbed her and lowered her on the hospital bed from which she had risen. Steve was there and she guessed from his tired features that he had stay with her the entire time, worrying sick. She smiled and squeezed his hand.

"Thank you," her eyes said.


	12. Decisive

**This scene is like I would imagine Coulson's funeral.**

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"A lot of situations in life have decisive moments. And I'm not talking about moments at the grocery store when you hesitate between this fruit and the other. I'm talking about decisive moments that have great consequences. Like pulling or not the trigger. In our line of work, we are all confronted with those kinds of decisive moments every day. Time and experience never makes it easier."

She took a moment to gather her thoughts and looked at the people in front of her, all sitting in neat rows. She hated that kind of ceremony but understood its importance. And _he_ would have liked it like that, all symmetrical and in order.

"I've known Agent Coulson for a long time. I am probably one of the people at SHIELD who knew him the longest. After Agents Barton and Fury, he was the first one I met when I was brought in. I won't be going with all the 'I remember it as if it was yesterday' cliché, but I do remember the day we met. Fury didn't trust me and was giving Barton one hell of a shouting in his office while I was confined in a room, handcuffed to a table."

Some people laughed, either because they had been there or had heard stories about the day Romanoff was brought in by Barton. The day the deadly assassin had been given a second chance. Steve had still been in the ice that day and he listened even more intently.

"No one really trusted me back in the day and for good reason. Any other agent would have pulled a bullet in my brain after walking the threshold but Coulson didn't. He just looked surprised because I had just freed myself from the handcuffs the moment he had walked in. I froze, expecting him to yell for back-up or even to give the killing order. But he simply smiled and said _'I've never seen anyone get out of those handcuffs so quickly'_. He then sat down at the table and placed a cup of coffee on it. His next words surprised me. He said _'I'm sorry if you don't like the coffee, I didn't know your preference. Sugar?'_ and then he held two sugar cubes to my face."

She bit her lips before continuing.

"He could have done a hundred other things but he just apologized for the coffee. He knew I could have killed him in five different ways in that room back then but he just slipped the sugar cubes in the cup when I nodded. Many people have told me Agent Coulson was a good judge of character and I want to believe that, not because he chose to trust me but because he allowed me to do good. And he did more good himself than I could ever hope to do. And his decisive moment during our fight landed him in this coffin."

She looked at the said coffin before quickly turning to the people gathered.

"He knew what would happen if he faced Loki alone. Despite the weapon he had, he knew he was no match against the Asgardian. But he stood his ground and did good. He might not have stopped Loki, but he tried and he died a hero trying. A true Avenger."

She opened her mouth to say something else but closed it and lowered her gaze before leaving the dais and sitting back with the other people gathered. She stayed until the very end and watched the whole ceremony from afar, slightly to the side by the trees. Steve was by her side once he had paid his respects.

"Nice speech," he just said.

She didn't smirk or snigger like he thought she would. "That was the least I could do."

He didn't tell her it wasn't her fault because he knew she knew that. She had seen dozens of agents fall, had been to countless funerals and every time she stayed aside, as if fearing to meddle with the rest of the crowd, as if she didn't belong. Her face was a mask of ice but her eyes shone brightly but not in a passionate way, more in the saddest way he had ever seen. And all he wanted to do in that moment was to erase that sadness. So he grabbed her chin and tilted her head up ever so slightly before lowering his lips on hers. She didn't respond but didn't pull away either. She seemed rather unsure of what to do and then when he pulled away, the sadness had been replaced by confusion.

"What was that, Rogers?" She didn't sound angry, just surprised.

"A decisive moment, Romanoff." They didn't speak after that, just stood there, watching the rest of the crowd pay their respects. But when Steve's arm settled around her shoulders, she didn't brush it off.


	13. Scandalous

Spoiler alert: This chapter contains intel about the latest Black Widow comics and what went on between Ivan and Natasha so if you don't want to get spoiled, don't read.

Hi guys!  
I'm sorry it took me so long to update. I've been through a lot in the last months when I lost someone very close to me.  
But I'm better now and trying to get healthy again after depression took a toll on my body. I'm also doing my best not to get kicked out of university.  
I hope you'll understand and forgive me and I also hope you'll like this chapter, slightly longer than the others. This chapter takes place after Civil War (a few months) and some events of the comics are taken into account.

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She was scandalous in her own way. Not in the way Tony was by behaving like the most arrogant prick during parties (or he used to behave like that before the Avengers initiative). Or not showing up at board meetings for Stark Industries. Nat wasn't also scandalous in Clint's way by giving Coulson grey hair for every time he ditched a mission briefing. Or came back from a mission half-dead because he didn't read the details of the said mission in the files he was supposed to read.

She was scandalous in the consequences of the things she did. All the impact her missions had on the entire world. Sometimes it was nothing, some other times it changed the future of an entire country.

What she did during the Civil War had been labeled "scandalous" by Ross for instance and the Secretary of State had ordered her captured. She had been marked just like Steve and James in a matter of hours. Of course she had disappeared in the nature. When Ross' men had turned at the hospital, they only found Rhodey stuck in a bed since Tony had been away, chasing Steve, James and Zemo in Siberia. Natasha would have joined them if her presence had been needed. But the guys seemed to have it all covered.

She actually learned about Zemo a few days later, when Clint contacted her once he was out of prison and safely with his family. He got in touch to ask for help, he needed a safe house to lay low for a while and he couldn't use his old ways because SHIELD had been compromised and so had he. His farm house had been the only exception. But Natasha had her web; she had spent years building it. It hadn't entirely fallen apart yet and Nat was glad to help her best friend out. That was the least she could do.

She gave him the coordinates of one of her safe houses in Texas and did the same for Sam. She didn't contact Tony or Steve. After a few weeks Clint stopped hearing from her. They knew she wasn't dead; the Black Widow wasn't just the kind of women to die in an alley in a cold winter night. Steve knew she could take care of herself but he feared she would disappear from his life forever without him even knowing.

He was on the run too and was under T'Challa's protection only in Wakanda. He had to come back to the USA at some point but it wasn't as Captain America. It wasn't even as Steve Rogers. He settled for Christopher Wellers and had a hard time getting used to people calling him "Chris". But that was his life now and he wouldn't complain about it. He'd seen a lot worse.

He had found a small job as a bartender in Harlem that sometimes required him to also be a bodyguard. It was only for a few months just to earn some money to get him by. The owner of the bar was a nice lady called Rita that was covered in as many tattoos as bruises. When Steve suggested she got away from her abusive husband, she just shrugged. "It's not that easy," she said that evening when Steve saw yet another bruise on her shoulder.

He knew he had to do something about her husband and he intended to do so the next day, just before going to work because he was too tired to do anything at 4 a.m. He was thinking about what Rita had said a few hours before when he noticed that the door of the apartment he rented in Brooklyn was ajar. It was a rather quiet neighborhood, not the same he used to live in when he was Captain Rogers.

He reached behind his back to grab his shield but remembered it wasn't there and so he rolled his eyes. He peeked inside the room and could see a faint light coming from the kitchen. As silently as he could, he entered his apartment and approached the light. He wasn't expecting at all what awaited him in the kitchen.

Natasha was sitting in a chair at the table. There was a duffel bag at her feet. Two bottles stood on the table. Nat was clutching the one that wasn't empty. She was slumped forward in the chair, her breasts lying on the table and her shoulders low. She didn't look up when Steve came in although he made some noise as to not startle her.

She only acknowledged his presence when he put his hand on her shoulder, not when he called her. She looked at him but didn't see him. Her eyes were glazed by the alcohol and something Steve couldn't quite determine. She seemed sad and frustrated at the same time. Tired and broken. Lost and resigned. As if she had discovered a terrible truth and was struggling to come to term with it.

He set his coat and shoes aside and sat next to her. He tried to pry the bottle from her hand but she held onto it as if it was the last anchor to her sanity. He didn't push it and she settled back into her position, gaze lost in front of her. She took a sip and Steve smelled the empty bottle. Vodka.

"What happened?"

Steve knew it was useless to ask her more than one question at a time so he waited for her to answer, no matter how long it would take. She took another sip and flattened her free hand on the table, physically bracing herself for the emotional hit that was about to come.

"A lot."

She didn't say anything else for a while and Steve studied her face during her silence, trying to see the details of her features that had changed in the five months he hadn't seen her.

"Ivan…" she started.

The words died in her throat and she choked on them. She coughed and took another sip of vodka while Steve's gentle hand settled on her back. She was slightly trembling and her eyelids were closing.

"He tried to kill me. So I took him out."

She spat that as quickly as she could. There was no violence in her voice, no hatred or anger. Simply resignation with a hint of sadness. "I thought I knew him… he was the one who raised me, who taught me everything. He was the closest thing I had to a father."

Steve had heard a lot about Ivan although he had never met him in person. He knew how close he had been to Natasha and how much he meant to her. Learning that he had betrayed her came to him as a shock. He had never seen her like this. She was a wreck.

He kept his hand on her back while she emptied the bottle and never let go. She didn't cry even once but her eyes were closing more and more until he asked her if she wanted to go to bed. When she nodded, he took her by the arm and led her into his bedroom. He took off her shoes and leather jacket that she hadn't bother taking off before and laid her in bed. Then he quickly changed into more comfortable clothes and joined her. He spooned her from behind and fell asleep to her steady breathing. She fell asleep soon after but not before shedding a few tears held for too long.

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Next theme: test


	14. Test

**Hi guys! I'm sorry it takes me so long to update this fanfiction. And I'm sorry this one is so short, but I wasn't really inspired by the word for this one. Hopefully next time it'll be longer. I also hope you'll enjoy it anyway.**

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"Come on Rogers! Don't tell me you're already tired!"

"I'm not," he grunted as he evaded her next attack, a high kick aimed at his head that arrived so quickly he had barely time to duck. Luckily he had fast reflexes and was able to follow her movements with his eyes, but he was in no position to attack her or even get the upper hand. They had been sparring for four hours now. The first two had been with the rest of the new Avengers, which included Sam, Rhodey, Vision and Wanda. But after two hours, their new recruits had been so tired, it was their first training session after all, Nat allowed them to end it there for the day, telling them to hit the showers.

Between her and Steve, she was the quietest. Never yelling or raising her voice but always using just the right amount of manipulation and determination in her voice. Sometimes, it was laced with threats and the silent promise of more hardships to come when their new students and comrades were being lazy. But she never used such a booming voice like Steve did from time to time, taking his military instructor role a little too much to heart.

"But we've been at it for hours! And you've never been hitting me this hard before."

"You wanna give up?" She threw a few punches that he blocked but when he tried to catch her wrists, she was already behind his back and kicked him, sending him forward but he managed to catch his balance.

"What's wrong with you? I know we said no holding back but this is out of line, Nat! You don't have to relieve your frustration against Banner on me!"

She punched him hard in the jaw and he fell to the floor. In a heartbeat, she was sitting on his chest, one fist raised. "Don't test my limits, Rogers…" she warned through gritted teeth.

He had never seen her so shaken before as if with that single sentence, he had punctured her mask, creating a crack in her perfect façade. As if she didn't want him to see what lay beneath it, as if she was afraid. She didn't tremble, she didn't speak. But he read it all in her eyes. He lifted his head to kiss her but she punched him in the nose, drawing blood. Steve immediately raised his hands to his face to stop the flow while he bucked and she stood.

"First blood's mine," she said, whipping her knuckles in her towel.

She joined him a few minutes later in his room, as he sat on the edge of the bed, looking up and with a tissue pressed to his nose.

"Dammit Nat! That wasn't funny!" he started when she came in but she cut him off by gently prying his hands from his face, whipping a small smudge of blood with her thumb and kissing him. Immediately, his hands reached behind her back, tugging her closer.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know," was all he said and they stayed like that for a while before she pressed the tissue rather roughly to his face.

"Hold it, or you'll bleed to death."

She winked and was out of the room.

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 **Next word: Measure**


End file.
